Super Natural
by itsyogirlHudsss
Summary: Jackson's back in town, and Lydia's having trouble dealing with her emotions. Meanwhile, a new threat falls upon Beacon Hills, and the pack must work hard to save the town. Eventual Stydia. A little bit of Jackson/Lydia.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

 _A/N: Hey! So I wanted to try this story out. It's kind of like what I believe Season 6 would be without less Wild Hunt and more Jackson. I love where I'm going with this, but my writing sucks, so if you're really going to read this, good luck. Here's a short intro chapter for my birthday. Hope you all like it!_

 _Also, I haven't written any of the other chapters yet, so the next update will be in quite a while, but I promise to try to make it as soon as possible!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not hold the rights to any of these characters of the universe they live in yo._

"Okay look, I'm sorry Lydia, but I was a hundred and fifteen percent sure that that bus driver was a werewolf. He reeked of wet dog."

Lydia makes a face that displays both exasperation and utter confusion as he speaks. She just can't believe Stiles. Over the course of the past week, he'd called her up at least a hundred times in order to find out whether or not some random incident was related to the supernatural. She currently has bags under her eyes because he woke her up at one freaking o'clock last night to sneak around some regular bus driver's house because he was convinced that the old man wasn't normal.

"And why is that any reason at all to literally pull me out of my bed in the middle of the night?" Lydia asks at last, her voice full of genuine confusion. "And I am so sleeping with my windows closed from now on."

"What if he was a werew-"

"Stiles!" she stops him. "I am a banshee. Do you know what we do? We predict death, Stiles. We find dead bodies. We scream. But we most certainly do not check and tell whether or not a certain person is a supernatural being."

Stiles sighs as rakes his hand through his hair, before rubbing both of them on his maroon khaki pants.

"Lydia, there –" he pauses, looking for the right way to explain himself, "there's been nothing even slightly abnormal going on for the past two months, you get it? Two months!"

He says that last part loudly, eliciting quizzical looks from the students around them. The teenager brushes them off, before leaning his head against his locker and releasing a breath he doesn't know he's been holding. "I just feel like, you know, soon enough, something's going to happen. Something bad. And I just –I don't want us to –"

"To not be prepared," Lydia finishes for him. She nods slightly, showing him that she understands, and a silent, mutual understanding leads them to drop the conversation. For now.

Stiles lifts his head off his locker and squeezes Lydia's shoulder in a way that displays gratitude, and, books in their hands, they both start making their way towards the banshee's English class.

* * *

Everyone seems too excited for a typical Monday, Lydia notices. Girls are laughing, whispering things into each other's ears, and boys are giving each other surprised glances around every corner. They're acting like normal teenagers, yes, but like, with twice the amount of adrenaline running through their bodies. Next to her, Stiles walks straight ahead, oblivious. She doesn't blame him. The poor guy's always worrying about something or another, his mind racing even when it' supposed to be fast asleep. Together with Scott, Stiles always carries the world's weight on his shoulders. They can be excused for not noticing a bunch of overexcited teenagers, which is a _totally normal_ thing, right?

Stiles stops in front of her classroom and smiles.

"I'll see you in Bio?" he asks, grinning at her in what he probably assumes is a gentlemanly manner.

"In Bio we shall meet!" she replies, smiling back.

"Farewell, lovely dame," Stiles says as he tips an imaginary hat and begins walking away. Lydia shakes her head and enters her class, greeting Mrs. Rao and making her way to her usual seat.

When she reaches it, however, the seat is occupied. By Jackson Whittemore.

* * *

"You look just as banging as I remember," Jackson says with a smirk that would have _totally_ seduced her a couple of years ago.

It doesn't escape Lydia's notice that he's playing with his old house key.

She wonders why he still has them. She wonders if he's pulled them out on purpose, thinking that it would struck a nerve in her. She wonders if that means something to him. But most of all, she wonders if that means something to _her_.

Lydia realizes that she's been staring at Jackson's hands for way too long, and a glance at his face, which is victoriously wearing a smile, assures her that indeed, Jackson is trying to get to her.

She refuses to let him in. He can't win her. Not yet.

Regaining her confident composure, Lydia looks right into Jackson's eyes and spits her next words at him.

"And you seem like you're just as much of an ass as you were when you left," she says in an icy tone, sitting down in the spot next to his.

Just to show him that he doesn't bother her, she convinces herself.

"Aw, come on! You're still mad that I left?" His words are accompanied by a smile, like he's enjoying this way more than she'd like.

"No, I'm mad that I let it bother me so much. You were never worth it."

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she regrets them. He doesn't have the right to know how much his departure affected her.

Jackson, however, doesn't seem to take much notice of her words. He lets out a frustrated groan and leans towards her.

"I still love you," he says suddenly.

Lydia turns towards him, her eyebrows raised and her mouth slightly parted in disbelief for a split second. Hoping he didn't catch her surprise, she tries to summon the Lydia she was in freshman year, back when she was able to bury her emotions deep under the soil that was her pride and that all that mattered to her was whether her shoes matched her dress right. She tries to call on her, needing her now more than ever. Bitchy Lydia, however, refuses to come back. She's dead.

"No," Lydia says then. "No you don't," the banshee repeats quietly, desperately trying to believe in her words.

Jackson leans further towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb in a gesture of sympathy.

"Lydia, just go out with me once. See if it works out."

Lydia pushes her hand off of her and turns back to face the teacher. _"No!"_ her mind says. _"He's a no good jerk with a pretty face. He isn't worth it."_

She knows he isn't worth her. She knows that he'll just toy with her until he finds someone else. She knows that he's trouble.

But her heart doesn't. Her heart is still stuck on the day he gave her his house keys. It's replaying every moment they've spent together. It's trying to convince her that maybe, somewhere buried deep inside, she may still feel _something_ for him. It knows that after losing so much, she deserves some happiness.

Lydia's answer is barely a whisper. She isn't quite sure he hears her.

"I'll have to think about it."

* * *

" _You'll have to think about it?"_

Stiles is having trouble keeping his anger to himself. His nose is scrunched up in fury and his hands are made into tight fists, tucked into the pockets of his navy blue hoodie.

"Lydia, this is the same man who treated you like scum throughout the entire time you were dating," he tries to convince her.

"But I loved him."

Stiles stares at Lydia, confused and, he'll be very honest, disappointed.

"And when you told him that, he took his furry little werewolf ass and ran off to Europe. Do you remember that particular romantic moment by any chance?"

Lydia squeezes her eyes shut in frustration and is about to reply when Scott enters the class and takes a seat in front of his best friend. His smile falters as he sees the expressions on both of their faces.

"What are both arguing about now?" he inquires.

"Lydia agreed to out with Jackson."

Scott's eyes widen in surprise.

"Jackson, as in Jackson Whittemore?"

"No, as in Jackson Pollock, you idiot. Yes, Jackson Whittemore!"

As Scott turns his gaze from Stiles to Lydia, the girl smacks Stiles behind the head, urging him to shut up.

"I did _not_ agree to going out with Jackson."

"You might as well have," Stiles counters, only to be met by one of Lydia's deadly glares.

"Stiles, for the millionth time, I told him that I would think about it, alright? I don't have my emotions all neatly sorted out into alphabetically ordered folders like you want me to. Once in a while, we need to get our asses out of the supernatural and face our everyday teenager problems. This is one of mine. And be a supportive friend or not, I don't care," she almost yells at him before furiously stomping out of the classroom.

Stiles starts to get up to follow her, but Scott stops him with a hand on his arm.

"I'll go. She's mad at you right now."

Stiles just nods as he takes his seat again, head held down in shame.

* * *

Scott runs out of the room and begins searching for his friend, but the young woman is nowhere in sight. He then focuses on the sound of the clicking Lydia's heels make when she walks in anger, rhythmic and furious, and, with the help of his enhanced hearing, is eventually able to locate Lydia at the end of an empty hallway.

She's sitting on the ground, her back pressed towards a locker as she takes laboured breaths, evidently trying not to cry. Her hands are on the sides of her neck, fingers tangled in her wavy hair. When she turns towards Scott, she makes no effort to regain her composure. Instead, she closes her eyes and lets her tears fall.

The alpha takes this as an invitation and sits down next to her.

"He feels bad," Scott tries as Lydia wipes her tears and turns her face towards his.

She slightly nods.

"I know."

"He's just worried."

Lydia lets out a sarcastic chuckle and turns her face away for a second. She faces Scott with a bitter smile.

"Of what? That I'll forget about the pack once I let Jackson back into my life? That I'll refuse to acknowledge the fact that you guys are my friends now? That I won't agree to help him on his dumb late night searches for supernatural creatures anymore? If that's what worries him, then he's wrong. Because I won't, Scott. I won't do any of that. I just hoped he'd understand that about me now."

Scott opens his mouth to say something, but finds that he's at a loss of words. Lydia takes his silence as a green light to go on.

"Imagine if Kira comes back three years from now, Scott," she says out of the blue.

The werewolf stares at her, questioning.

"It's not a fair example, because what Jackson and I had wasn't even a fraction of what you two shared," Lydia tries to explain, "but I need you to tell me. Imagine if Kira comes back three years from now."

"Okay."

Lydia turns her body so that she's facing him completely, and tries to prove her case.

"Imagine she comes back and that, during these past three years, you've grown so much, you've made so many new friends, and you've gone through so much that you just didn't think of her all that much."

Scott nods, encouraging her to go on.

"But when she sees you, she tells you that she still loves you, and then suddenly all these –these feelings you didn't know you still had resurface. Would you give her a chance?"

Scott looks sincerely into Lydia's eyes.

"I would give her a hundred chances."

"Exactly," Lydia says as she smiles a little. A real, genuine Lydia Martin smile. "You'd give her a hundred chances, and I'm still contemplating whether or not to give him one." Her smile fades and she closes her eyes again, trying in vain to keep her tears to herself. "Why can't Stiles understand how hard this is for me?"

"Because he's afraid for you, Lydia."

"Scott," she urges, "I know how to take care of myself. I won't let anyone treat me like dirt again. He knows that."

"Just _knowing_ that you're strong enough for this might not satisfy him completely, you know. He cares a lot about you, Lydia."

"I know," she says. "I know he does."

Scott takes her hands in his in the most brotherly manner he can manage.

"I think you should talk to him."

Lydia nods in response and they both sit there in a comfortable silence before Scott speaks up.

"I'll see you in class?" he asks, dropping her hands and standing up.

"I'll be there in a sec," Lydia answers.

Scott smiles and takes a few steps before stopping one last time

"Oh, and by the way, he's not just afraid you'll get hurt. It's more than that."

"Huh?" Lydia blurts.

"He's afraid he'll lose you."

And with that, Scott walks away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _A/N: Heya! Chapter 2 for you guys! It's short but sets up the rest pf the story. There's no Jackson in this one, either, but you'll see a lot of him in the future, I promise._

 _Also, I've used a mythical creature for this story, and would like to warn everyone that I have changed many things about the creature to make it fit with my story. I repeat, most of the things written here about the creature are a result of my imagination, although it is all inspired from the real thing. I hope I don't offend anyone with the amount of changes I've made._

 _Also also, reviews make me smile!_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own, MTV, Teen Wolf, Or European Mythology._

* * *

Lydia has trouble focusing for the rest of biology class.

" _He's afraid he'll lose you."_

What in the world was that supposed to mean? She keeps throwing furtive glances in Stiles' direction, but he's lost in concentration, his fingers rhythmically drumming against the cold wood of his desk. They hadn't talked much after Lydia had returned to class, but he had reached over and squeezed her hand, seemingly apologizing, and she had put her other hand on his, assuming that he understood that they were fine now.

Now, she's not fine anymore. She wants to talk to him. She wants to tell him that Jackson would never, and she emphasizes, _never_ come between their friendship. What she shares with the pack, she could never give up for a boy. They were her friends, and she loved them more than she dared to think.

She looks in Scott's direction, and the alpha, as if sensing her gaze on him, momentarily stops furiously scribbling his pen against his notebook and sends a shy smile her way. _"Don't worry,"_ he seemed to tell her, and she tore her gaze away from his, only to have it land on the seemingly zoned out boy next to her once again.

How can she not worry when her best friend doesn't have faith in their bond?

* * *

Lydia isn't sure when it happens.

One instant, she's lost in the details that make up Stiles' hoodie, and the next, she's holding her head against her hands. Her entire body is throbbing with pain and all she can hear is loud and continuous thumping, almost as if someone was using her temples as drums.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

The banshee squeezes her eyes shut and forces herself not to scream, knowing full well that her voice, if not controlled, could be lethal.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

She's on her knees, Scott and Stiles kneeled down next to her, keeping her from collapsing to the ground.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump._

She suddenly feels being lifted up bridal style, and is able to open her eyes long enough to see a familiar navy blue fabric rubbing against her face. She hears Scott's footsteps follow Stiles', both the students running at full speed towards the exit of the building, neither of them paying attention to the teacher's shouts behind them. Once the school doors open, Lydia feels the cold October air hit her face, and a bit further, in the center of what she assumes is the Lacrosse field, Stiles gently lays her down against the grass and takes a few steps back.

"Lydia, scream," Scott says.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump. Ssssssssss._

"Scream," Scott says again, louder now.

 _Thump. Thump. Sssssssss. Thump. Sssssssss._

"Lydia," Stiles says this time. "Scream. SCREAM, LYDIA!"

And Lydia does.

The scream is so loud she feels windows breaking in the facility and she swears she can physically _see_ the air rippling around her. A few feet away from her, her two friends are kneeling down in pain, their hands covering their ears, but neither makes an attempt to get away from her.

Lydia is grateful.

When she finally closes her mouth again, the young banshee takes a few seconds to regain her senses. She feels lightheaded, and all she can see is a blank, white, landscape of nothing. She isn't sure if she's standing, crouching, or collapsed on the ground. When her vision comes back, Scott is the first one to approach her kneeling form. His ears are of a scarlet red, but he seems otherwise unscathed. When Stiles uncovers his ears, however, Lydia is able to see a trail of blood dripping down to his neck, disappearing into the fabric of his top. He hastily wipes it in a desperate effort for it to go unnoticed and walks towards his two companions.

"Lydia, what happened?"

Lydia recalls the last few minutes of her life and can't help but tear up at the intensity of it all.

"Somebody died," she replies. "Actually, a _number_ of somebodies died."

Scott nods.

"Anything else?"

"I think they were killed by a snake."

* * *

It's a pain for the three of them to try to explain themselves when they're at the door of their classroom with almost thirty pairs of curious eyes upon them.

Scott tries and tries, but nothing he says seems to convince Mrs. Rao that Lydia is, in fact, in perfect condition. Add that to the fact that the entire school heard the scream that broke two of its windows, and the trio was perfectly, what they would call, stuck. After maybe ten minutes of fruitless arguing from Stiles, the teacher decides that the three of them needed a break, and dismisses them from the rest of class.

Well, guess that went in their favour anyways.

The trio makes its way to the library then, and Scott texts the rest of the pack to meet them there. Until then, Stiles, Scott, and Lydia would try to find what it is that they were up against this time.

"What _exactly_ are we looking for?" Lydia asks, sitting with her laptop open, ready to type.

"Search up 'killer snake'," Scott suggests, receiving disbelieving looks from the other two.

"Scott, there are almost a million different types of killer snakes out there."

"'Supernatural killer snakes'?" he tries again.

Lydia looks reluctant, but begins typing away, a look of determination spreading across her face. Stiles, on the other hand, tries to find anything he can on snakes in the bestiary.

They search for almost an hour, but turn up answerless. Lydia browses from site to site and Stiles goes through the pages of the bestiary in thorough detail, in search of anything having to do with snakes. By the end of the period, he's only halfway through. Scott for his part, has been going up and down the aisles in the library, trying to search for something, _anything_ that may have even the most remote connection to the situation at hand, but not only does the search turn up to be a waste of time, but the alpha now has the disturbing image of two freshmen _going at it_ ,in the non-fiction section, stuck in his head.

He's almost surprised it's been that long when the rest of the pack shows up to help.

"So we're looking for a homicidal snake?" Malia asks Stiles, bemused.

"Death by snake venom is completely natural," Hayden adds, "why are you guys looking in the bestiary?"

"Because Lydia believes that the incident has to do with the supernatural," Stiles answers, still furrowing through the pages, not bothering to look up at them.

They don't question him after that. Instead, they pull out their phones and begin surfing the net in hopes of finding something.

They all sit there, quiet, curious, and a little fearful for the next half an hour until Liam pipes up and nudges Scott.

"Can't we do this after school? I mean, we're all starving."

Scott lifts his head up and out of the book on Irish mythology he has in his hands to see Hayden, Mason, and Malia looking expectantly at him. Closing the volume, his clears his throat, grabbing Lydia and Stiles' attention and nods.

"Maybe we should go get something to eat. We'll do some searching afterwards."

Lydia stares at him incredulously, but when he refuses to acknowledge her, she turns off her laptop and gets up, grabbing her purse and making sure to hit Scott with it. Scott doesn't flinch. He knows he kind of deserves it.

Stiles starts shoving the bestiary back into his school bag, but as he's about to zip it up, he feels his phone vibrating in his back pocket.

It's a text from his dad.

"Uh, Scott? You might wanna skip lunch and come with me."

 **At the hospital with Melissa. We have dead bodies. Bring Scott.**

* * *

"They came in about twenty minutes ago," Melissa explained, "And we have reasons to believe that the cause of their deaths was supernatural."

"And if you don't mind," Stiles begins, flinging his hands in wild gestures, "might we know what those reasons are?"

Melissa gives Stiles a look, effectively shutting him up, and unzips the bag in which one of the bodies is found. The Sheriff just stands behind her, an air of confusion pressed upon his features.

When she unzips the corpse, the two boys have trouble telling what about the body is abnormal. The man looks like he must have been in his late thirties, with short black hair, and a round face, the kind that you'd expect to see an old uncle wearing. His lips have been strained of color, but otherwise, it's hard to tell that he's dead. If you didn't pay close attention, you'd think that he's taking an afternoon nap.

"His name was Marlin Rosoff," the Sheriff says at last. "He was a dentist working across town. He left behind a wife and three children. They say that he heard a weird noise in the old water filtration building and went in to take a look. He died inside."

"And why do you need Scott and I?" Stiles asked.

Melissa sighs and forces one of the body's eyes open with her fingers, leaving Scott and Stiles bewildered.

Instead of a human eyeball, there lay a smooth, grey rock in the victim's eye socket.

"There have also been large traces of an unidentified venom found in his body," Melissa adds.

"Problem is," Sheriff continues, "they don't know the poison got in there."

The nurse zips the bag back up and turns to face the three men again.

"There was no injection. He hadn't ingested or digested it, and the venom is evenly distributed throughout his entire body, so they're having trouble determining how he got poisoned in the first place."

Scott stares at his mother for a while, and then averts his gaze and lands it on the black bag behind her. He then looks at Stiles, who seems to be thinking the same thing as he is, and finally asks what they both want to know the answer to.

"Is it possible that he died because of snake venom?"

* * *

 _Soooooo did you like it? Did you hate it? Did you fall asleep halfway through? Tell me! See you all (hopefully) soon with a new chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Hey! Sorry for the late update, I was just real busy these past few weeks. Also, I would like to personally commend anyone who has made it through the last two chapters without gagging. They're horrible and full of typos. I think you've noticed by now that I don't proofread, I'm working on it, though!_

 _Anyway, This chapter is slightly better than the last couple and really sets the mood for the rest of the story, if not in a really subtle way. It establishes a couple of relationships, and tells you what the latest Beacon Hills threat is, or at least what it resembles. It's also a good one because it's the rise of Detective!Stiles._

 _Also also, I do not ship Jackson and Lydia, no matter what it seems like. I just know how important Jackson is to Lydia as a person. Remember, this is, at its core, a Stydia fic._

 _Disclaimer: I do not hold the rights to MTV, Teen Wolf or any of its characters, European mythology, Greek mythology, or Harry Potter._

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

Lydia can't help but bounce her legs up and down as the pack (or part of it) is seated at a cafeteria table, munching at their sandwiches as if there hadn't been dead bodies found half an hour ago, and that _she_ hadn't had a "banshee feeling" right before that. Her tray of food lay before her, untouched. Next to her, Liam, Corey and Mason are fully engaged in a conversation about God-knows-what while Hayden smiles down at her phone screen, probably texting someone. Lydia glances at her phone, hoping to find a text from either Scott or Stiles, but she receives no news.

She doesn't know how to feel about that.

Suddenly, Lydia is startled by an arm slipping around her waist as someone takes a seat next to her. She doesn't need to look up to know who it is.

"Get your arm off of me, Jackson."

Jackson looks confused, but listens nonetheless, slowly removing his arm while smiling as if he thinks that he's gotten to her.

He hasn't. Not yet at least.

"Still have to think about it, I see."

"The longer I look at your face, the more I'm leaning towards no."

Jackson chuckles, and then averts his attention to the people sitting around him. He seems to be studying them. Lydia hadn't had many friends when he was still around. She wonders if it surprises him, to see that she's surrounded herself by people who care about her. She wonders what they think about him. She is also curious to know what _he_ thinks of _them_ , but then tries not to think of that too much. She's convinced that she doesn't care.

She watches him stare blankly at Hayden, then amusedly looking at Malia, who was struggling to fit her double-burger in her mouth. When Malia notices him watching, she growls, threatening. Jackson raises his hands up in surrender and laughs, before looking back at Lydia.

"And they are –"

"–my friends," Lydia answers, almost defensively. Her voice is slightly high-pitched, and she sees the pack turning their attention towards her. Not in surprise, just in curiosity. Malia, who hadn't taken her eyes off the two of them, has her teeth bared and is still growling at Jackson.

 _Guess that answers whether she likes him or not._

"I don't want you here," the were-coyote then says to Jackson, narrowing her eyes and slightly flaring her nostrils. Then, as realization dawns on her a couple of seconds later, "Wait, you're the lizard boyfriend, aren't you?"

Jackson isn't fazed by her first comment. "So you've heard about me," he muses, almost proud.

"Yeah, you tend to hear about things like a homicidal lizard under the control of a psychopathic killer," Malia spits back.

"At least you acknowledge the fact that I was under influence."

Malia lets out a sneer and puts her burger down. She slams both of her hands on the table, and leans over towards Jackson, holding his gaze. "I acknowledge a lot of things about you, like the fact that you gave my friend shit while she was dating you. Now, we don't want you here. Leave."

"Well, I don't think it matters to me whether you want me here or not." he looks over to Lydia. "I'm here for _her_."

Lydia can feel all seven pairs of eyes upon her after Jackson is done speaking. They're expecting her to answer.

Once again, Lydia isn't sure how she feels.

On one hand, she agrees with Malia. She wants Jackson gone. From this table, from Beacon Hills, from her life. She doesn't want to have to revisit the painful feeling of him breaking up with her after she's given him her all once again.

But a small, tiny, almost irrelevant part of her yells out to Jackson. It reminds her that he says he's here for _her._ And even if she denies it now, she knows that that part of her will eventually lead to her taking that leap of faith and liking Jackson again, if she doesn't find a concrete reason not to.

Lydia shakes away the thoughts from her head, clearing her mind before letting the awkward silence that has settled within the group get to her once again. She avoids making eye-contact with any of them, but their gazes are burning holes into her skull, expectant. And, knowing full well that they can hear the rapid thumping of her heart better than she can, Lydia feels more vulnerable now than she ever has.

The light on her phone goes off. It's a text from Stiles.

Lydia thanks the universe and proceeds to tap on the little icon, revealing a short message from the boy (whom she totally considers her life-saver right now).

 **Scott and I have info. Come to my place as soon as possible. Alone if you can.**

The young girl answers his text immediately and only speaks to Jackson as she gets up.

"I have to leave, so please go away right now and don't talk to my friends unless I'm with them, understood?"

"Where do you have to go?" Mason then inquires.

Lydia hesitates, not knowing how the werewolf sitting right next to her would react to the answer, but then lifts her chin up, proud, all signs of doubt gone, and answers boastfully, mostly for Jackson's benefit.

"Stiles's house."

She doesn't wait to see his reaction.

* * *

"The unusually quickly delivered forensic reports say that they've been poisoned with a venom that is currently unidentified in any lab, but they're keeping samples longer to see if they can find anything," Stiles explains to Lydia, pinning a ripped page out of a notepad onto his crime board.

"There is no trace of any possible injection on any of the three bodies," Scott adds, "so they couldn't have been injected in the past couple of hours, if that's the case."

"Needle marks are tiny. They could be hard to find," Lydia suggests.

"But the venom is so strong it killed one of the forensic scientists when he accidentally made contact with an amount estimated to be of almost a drop. Rotted his organs to the core in less than a second."

Scott shakes his head as he gets off the bed and goes to stand near a pacing Stiles.

"It's impossible," the alpha started, "that the venom stayed in their systems long enough for an injection mark to disappear without killing them."

"And there were no needles found at the scene."

Lydia stops to think for a while.

"They could've –"

Stiles interrupts her.

"No, they did not ingest or digest the venom."

Lydia closes her mouth, with nothing else to say. Scott and Stiles share a glance, before Scott turns his head towards the ceiling and inhales slowly, blinking.

Finally, he looks straight at her and tells her the part that confuses them all.

"When – When they found the dead bodies, all of them had rocks instead of eyes."

At first, Lydia is taken aback. _That_ was weird. Millions of scenarios pass through her brain, starting with organ traffickers and ending on biochemical engineers. Her human side decides to look for a logical explanation to the situation, some sort of mathematical formula resulting in an entirely non-supernatural related solution. She tries to convince herself, putting her banshee intuition aside, that Stiles was wrong. That this wasn't a supernatural event that had come rising from the ground to disturb their senior year. She tries to make sense of it, playing a hundred scenarios in her head, but comes up empty. Nothing makes sense.

Then, her eyes lock with Stiles's, and she remembers the story of a mythical creature everyone knows all too well. _Oh yeah, mythology._ _Mythology always has the answer._

Lydia rises from her spot on Stiles's bed and walks up to him and Scott, her eyes glistening the way they always do when she thinks she's discovered something.

"Who turns people to stone when people look at her?" she asks Scott.

"Medusa?" Scott tries, confused.

Lydia nods and pulls out her laptop from her bag. She turns it on and frantically begins typing.

"That might be our lead."

The banshee narrows her eyes, reading something off the screen, and does so for several minutes, as if having forgotten about the other two people in the room. Meanwhile, Scott and Stiles look at each other, uncertain. Sure, the supernatural surprised them every once in a while, but it was common knowledge that Medusa the gorgon, if she did exist, was dead, right?

 _But what if there's another?_ Stiles thinks. What if Greek divinities were real and some other gorgon fell in love with Poseidon and pissed off Athena, the almighty goddess of wisdom and war, who in return had cursed this gorgon with the same curse she had bestowed upon Medusa? What if the supernatural extends to Greek mythology, as well? With everything that the pack has had to face in the last couple of years, is it really still possible to put boundaries on the supernatural?

"So, what you're saying," Stiles then says, hesitantly, hoping to prove himself wrong, because he goddamn well knows that he doesn't want to fights _Gods._ He looks over to Lydia's concentrated form, her fingers typing endlessly, her brows furrowed causing her forehead to slightly crease, her bottom lip being mercilessly chewed on by her incisors, "is that there's another Medusa?"

Lydia glances at him for a split second before returning her attention to the screen before her and slightly shaking her head. Seconds later, she stops typing and a small smile forms across her face. Keeping her focus on the laptop, she motions for the two boys to come forward and see what she's found.

"Medusa had snakes on her head instead of hair," Lydia explained, "which got me thinking. So I searched up a list of snake-related creatures in mythology and came up with one that kills a prey by simply gazing into its eyes. The creature is also rumoured to turn its victims to stone."

She turns the screen towards them and in big, bold letters, the boys could read: **BASILISK**

* * *

"So, like, the basilisk from Harry Potter?" Stiles exclaims, incredulously.

Lydia purses her lips and tilts her head to the side, as if looking for the right words to say. Stiles looks over to Scott, who bears an expression similar to his, and they both simultaneously shrug their shoulders and wait for Lydia to speak.

"In Harry Potter," Lydia starts, "the basilisk is described as a huge monster that scares spiders and can be killed by its own venom."

The boys nod, urging her to go on.

"In mythology, the creature is no longer than twelve inches and, like other snakes, is unaffected by its own venom."

"So Rowling lied to millions of people by promoting basilisks as gigantic snakes?"

"Basically."

Stiles nods, sucking on his bottom lip. He then furrows his brows and tilts his head a bit, thinking.

"So, kill a foot long lizard? Can't be too hard."

Lydia shakes her head.

"It's not easy either," she explains, typing something in, causing a new window to open up. "It says here that the creature can kill someone by staring at, drooling on, or biting them. Any living soul that tries to get near it is most likely to perish right there."

"Hey, at least we have an idea of what the creature might be," Scott says, trying to ease things. "We'll figure something out, we always do. Let's wait for the venom samples to be examined before we start chasing this lead." He walks to the door and picks up his school bag, checking the time on his phone as he does so. "I've got to get to work; I'll try to see if Deaton's got anything for us."

Stiles grabs his keys and follows.

"Your bike is still at school. I'll drop you off and pick you up; we'll get it on the way back."He looks back towards Lydia. "You leaving or waiting for me?"

"I'll stay, thanks."

Stiles smiles a little.

"There's pizza in the fridge if you get hungry."

* * *

"And as always, Lydia was the one to figure it out," Scott says as the blue jeep pulls into the parking lot of the animal clinic.

"Yeah," Stiles answers, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

"You two going to talk it out?"

Stiles nods, inhaling.

"I hope," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. They both stay quiet for a while before speaking at the same time.

"I'll get going –"

"I hope she knows I'm not mad –"

Scott, whose right hand rests on the handle to the door, shakes his head and puts his free hand on his friend's shoulder.

"She knows. Trust me," the alpha says before stepping out of the jeep and turning around to wave back at Stiles.

Stiles stays rigid for a while, but then relaxes and waves back, pulling out of the lot, the face of a certain strawberry blonde distracting him from the roads.

* * *

The pizza's cold, but she likes it that way.

Lydia hasn't had lunch, and the whole, _baked_ , frozen pizza in the fridge proves that Stiles knows. She doesn't know when he got the time to make pizza for her, or even if he made it purposely _for her_ , but she's thankful either way. Once again, her friend is the reason she's smiling while doing something so completely mundane, causing her to actually thank her lucky stars for having given in to go to a school dance with a hyperactive spaz, a couple of years ago.

Lydia's down to her last slice when she hears a key turning at the front door. In comes Stiles, his face red from what she assumes is the cold, and, as he tucks his keys into the pocket of his pants, the boy comes over and sits down next to her. She can't help but notice the look of sheer amusement crossing his features as his glaze lands on her plate. She gulps and looks down, embarrassed.

"Sorry, was I not supposed to eat the whole thing?"

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head a little, placing a hand on Lydia's back.

"No, it was yours. Scott and I ate before you got here. It's just," He forces himself to stop smiling, "I had a feeling you didn't have lunch. Guess I was right."

It's Lydia's turn to laugh. As she swallows the last of her food off her plate, she glances over at Stiles, her eyes twinkling with delight.

"Yeah, watching Malia trying to gobble up an entire double burger tends to take one's appetite away."

"Tell me about it," he jokes, before picking up her plate and making his way to wash it. When he's done, he looks at her and tilts his head towards his room, his expression calmer but still with the ghost of a smile present.

"I believe we need to talk."

He doesn't wait for her to follow.

* * *

Lydia can't bring herself to feel nervous as she steps into Stiles's room behind him, taking a seat on his bed, facing him. He's smiling at her, and she smiles back. To be honest, she doesn't even remember what they're supposed to be talking about.

"Jackson," he then says, as if reading her mind. He's sitting with his legs crossed, his hands playing with each other, as if he isn't quite sure what to do with them, and he's looking at her, his face soft but void of definitive expression.

"Yeah," she answers, taking in a deep breath, "Jackson."

"I'm not mad," he breathes out, meeting her gaze and refusing to look anywhere else, his eyes burning with honesty and desperation and just the pure hope that she understands.

She does.

"I know."

He brings up a hand and rakes it across his hair, letting it linger at the back of his neck for a moment, his gaze momentarily falling to his bed sheets. Then, shaking his head slightly, he meets her eyes once more and takes both of her hands into his, the same way Scott had done earlier that day yet feeling so _entirely_ different.

"It's just, you know –It's just that you love so selflessly Lydia," he starts, his grip on her hands tightening slightly, "so goddamn selflessly and wholly that you forget to put yourself first when you need to. You love so intensely that even when you try to hide it, it's impossible not to know that you love someone. You – You make yourself vulnerable in love, Lydia."

Lydia is about to answer but is interrupted.

"You deserve love," he continues, "you really do. You deserve a love that completes you and makes you happy. A love that makes you feel powerful at your weakest. After all you've been through, you deserve some happiness. Jackson," his gaze flickers elsewhere for a split second, and Lydia would've missed the moment of hesitation, was she not staring right at him, "Jackson still hasn't earned our trust, Lydia. I'm not saying that you shouldn't love him, that's not what I mean at all, but, "He licks his bottom lip slowly, blinking real fast for a couple of seconds, "try not to love him more than you love yourself. At least not until you're sure he deserves it."

Lydia is at a loss for words. She looks down to where their hands meets, and then back into his eyes, still emitting the same intensity as they always have in moments like these. His face is just so _sincere_ that Lydia almost forgets that this is the same boy who has trouble staying still for more than thirty seconds, but she's known him long enough to know that occasionally, Stiles Stilinski will manage to say something that you won't be able to forget for your entire life, and he'll say it with such honesty that you can't help yourself but take him seriously.

"I was going to yell at you for not believing in our friendship," Lydia explains to him, smiling, a little embarrassed, "but I think we can both agree on the fact that I was wrong."

And then, barely any louder than a whisper, she adds, "Thank you."

Stiles just smiles back and, letting go of her hands, pulls her in for a hug. Lydia obliges, wrapping her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight as a way of displaying gratitude. Gratitude for trusting her, gratitude for believing in her, gratitude for caring about her.

As they both pull away, Stiles is about to say something else when Lydia's phone begins to ring. It's a number she doesn't recognize. She gets up and walks away from the bed, facing the door as she answers.

"Hello?"

"Hey," Jackson's voice answers on the other side.

"How did you even remember my number?"

Before Jackson can answer, Stiles talks again.

"Hey, Lydia," he softly says, and, as she turns around to face him, adds, "If he asks you out, you answer honestly."

Lydia just nods, and, when Jackson asks her to accompany him to a party on Saturday, she tells him that she'll meet him there.

* * *

 _Reviews make me smile!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: So sorry for the uber late update! As I've said before, I'm going to move all of my stories to AO3 soon. The chapters there will be longer and overall better. Furthermore, they'll be updated way sooner. I have finals and a wedding in the family coming up right now, so I seldom get time to write. Please forgive me. Hope you enjoy!_

 **Chapter 4**

"I don't get it," Stiles says to his father, rubbing his sweaty palms on his sweatpants, shaking his head slightly as he lets out a sigh. "When did they conduct the autopsies?"

The sheriff tilts his head to the side, forehead creasing in confusion. "Maybe an hour after the bodies were found," he answers.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Why not?"

"Because," Stiles starts, turning his chair to face his father completely, "the victims died an hour before you texted me. Ten minutes later, when Scott and I arrived, you guys said that the bodies arrived at the hospital twenty minutes earlier, which means," he pauses for a second, "that the bodies got to the hospital about ten minutes before Scott and I got there."

The sheriff opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by his son.

"An autopsy typically takes about two to four hours to conduct, and results can only be released after a minimum of twenty-four hours, so it makes absolutely no sense that you guys have the bodies _and_ the forensic reports already."

The sheriff stays quiet for a while, making sense of what his son has just said, before speaking.

"Son, the bodies were found yesterday morning."

Stiles blurts out a surprised "What?"as his eyes widen. He stands up and off his chair, taking a step towards his dad, who is seated across from him at the table.

"The bodies were found yesterday morning," his father repeats. "The victim's wife went looking for him and called us. All the reports... they were conducted yesterday. The bodies only arrived to the hospital today because the scientists wanted to collect as many samples of the venom as they could manage."

"So who died today?"

"What do you mean?"

Stiles swallows.

"Lydia felt a bunch of people die about an hour before you texted me."

"She felt it?"

"Yeah," the boy says as he nods. "She even screamed like hell."

In less than a heartbeat, the Sheriff is up on his feet, reaching for his phone. He dials a number and paces around impatiently until whoever it is on the other side picks up. Stiles just watches him, his gaze following the older man's footsteps.

"Hello?" Noah says then, "Where's Deputy Parrish? No, no, send Deputy Young to deal with the car accident. I've given clear orders. Parrish's first priority is the homicide case. Alright, good, now, tell him that I want him to go to the old purification plant across town. I'll meet him there. Yes, right now. Very well. And Clark?" he pauses momentarily, "Tell him to bring backup."

He hangs up and reaches for his jacket, looking up at Stiles as he does so.

"Call Scott and Lydia. You guys are coming with me."

* * *

It's almost an hour later that the four of them find themselves seated in the backseat of the Sheriff's car, parked right in front of the old, abandoned building.

Scott and Stiles talk during the whole ride, discussing theories and ideas and possibilities and whatnot. The whole time, neither of them addresses the other two passengers. Lydia keeps track of the conversation, taking note of what makes sense and what doesn't, but besides that, it's almost as if she wasn't in the car at all. She doesn't complain. It's not like it's she's got anything helpful to say, anyway.

The two boys, quite intrigued by the banshee's silence, don't question her. She's got enough on her plate already.

"Why is it always abandoned buildings?" Stiles whines from the passenger's seat, earning a deathly glare from his dad.

The Sheriff looks around then, and, as he spots the officer he's looking for, he turns back to face Scott.

"I'll try to hold them back for a while. You guys have about five minutes to go in there and see if anything... supernatural was involved."

Scott nods, and before the Sheriff even reaches Parrish a couple of cars away, the three teenagers are inside the big building.

It's dark in the facility, obscuring the teenagers' vision. Scott tries to find the bodies by scent while Lydia and Stiles just mindlessly wander, but none of them can ever find anyone. Every once in a while, one of them would trip over an old rock or torn piece of clothing, but all in all, no bodies were to be found. Dead, or alive.

"I don't think there's anyone here," Scott says half an hour into their search. He can hear the cops somewhere behind them, searching in places they've already looked, and knows that they, too, cannot seem to find any bodies. "I can't smell anything."

"But I _felt_ it," Lydia protests, walking further into the darkness, manoeuvring her way through the various pipes and nozzles. She ducks slightly to get through them, as if maybe she'll get a better view from between the tubes, her mind fiercely determined not to give up.

"Maybe it was just a-" he's interrupted by Lydia's scream. Not a banshee scream, luckily, but pretty freaking close, if you ask him.

He makes his way to the strawberry blonde, and his breath catches in his throat at the sight in front of him. Stiles makes his way to them as well, and his eyes widen as he looks at the dozen of bodies scattered across the room, the scene looking as if pulled straight out of a horror movie in the absence of light.

There are exactly twelve of them laying there, if he's counting right, some sprawled across the larger pipes overhead, with their backs to the metal and their arms flung over their heads or across their torsos, others hanging by smaller ones under, with their legs hanging off the pipes as if they'd purposely been seated there, and a couple on the ground, all looking fast asleep, all looking as peaceful as Scott remembered Marlin looking. Their eyes are shut, and their bodies look like they haven't been harmed at all. Slowly, Lydia goes up to the corpse closest to her and, her hand shaking uncontrollably, she forces its eye open. A yelp escapes her as the eyelid lifts to reveal nothing but a soft, grey stone.

Stiles runs towards another one of the bodies and does the same thing, revealing the exact same result. Sighing loudly, he turns to Scott, and the alpha knows exactly what he's trying to tell him. They're all dead. And eye-less.

Scott lets his gaze wonder from one body to the next, from the old woman on the highest pipe to the middle-aged man at his feet, and his eyes well up as he sees Lydia next to the limp form of a small child, not much older than ten.

Stiles looks at his friends and remains motionless for a while, before speaking, his voice wavering, as though he feels the urge to cry but refuses to.

"It's an entire family," he says at last. "I knew them."

Scott furrows his eyebrows and turns towards his friend, tilting his head slightly.

"The old man over there," Stiles says, pointing to a corpse hanging loosely by a large pipe, "he worked at the hospital. He took care of my mom, too. I used to play with his son at the park sometimes." His gaze flickers towards a body to Scott's right, seemingly belonging to a boy of their own age. "I think his name was Mario or something, I'm not sure." He pauses again. "I haven't seen him in almost ten years."

"Do you think you know why?"

Stiles just shakes his head. Both the boys look at each other hopelessly, listening to the sound of the cops, who were still at a distance from them, before focusing on Lydia, who is still sitting against the body of the little boy, his hand in hers. She stares at him, motionless but for the heavy heaving of her chest as she breathes, her pink lips parted in shock as her fingers are tangled with the boy's.

"He's so cold," she whispers.

Stiles walks towards her and puts a hand on her shoulder. Scott gets up and makes his way to them as well.

"We'll find whatever it is that did this to them," the werewolf reassures her, "and we'll stop it."

Before she can answer, Stiles is pushing them away towards another big room as the several cops begin to pour into the room, gasping and muttering curses under their breaths. Before the teenagers can listen in to any of what is being said, however, their attention turns towards the large pools of water around them.

Instinctively, Lydia walks towards one of them, and is soon followed by the two boys. Scott reaches out to touch the water.

"Don't," Lydia whispers.

Scott looks up at her.

"The basilisk's venom," she says quietly, "if there's a basilisk around this place, and it's been in any of this water, the entire thing is poisonous. You'd die as soon as you touched it."

"Besides," Stiles adds, "the water in these pools, which there shouldn't be here at all, by the way, it's probably been stale for at least a decade. This plant hasn't been used ever since the new one opened up closer to the river."

Scott hesitates a moment, before getting up and looking around for something.

"Maybe if we can find a container," the alpha starts as he's walking around in search of something, "we can take back samples of the water to Deaton. To check if there really is anything wrong with it."

"I have an empty mint box. It's small, though."

"That'll do," Stiles chimes in. "If the venom really is as strong as we think it is, then even a drop should be enough." He walks towards Lydia, his hand reached out expectantly as she pulls out a small mint box from the pocket of her jacket. She places it in his palm slowly.

"Don't let any of that water touch you, Stiles. At all. I mean it."

Stiles just smiles a little as he turns away from her. Walking over to one of the pools, he crouches down on the edge, careful as to not come in contact with the he opens the box, he looks over to Scott, nervous. The werewolf nods in encouragement and fixes his gaze on the pool in front of him. Inhaling sharply, Stiles dips the box into the pool, filling the little blue box up to at least three-quarters of its capacity. Pulling the container back out, he holds it away from himself as water drips off its sides.

"Um, a little help here? I've got to get rid of the water on the sides."

Whipping his head around, Scott gets up and runs to find something. After a couple of seconds of frantic searching, he comes back towards Stiles with a scrunched up old piece of tissue paper.

Stiles makes a face at his friend, but takes the tissue nonetheless, wiping off the unwanted liquid. Once he's sure that it's safe, he secures the lid on and stands up.

"Let's hope this helps."

* * *

"I've never quite seen anything like this," Deaton says to the pack the next day. He's got the liquid in a glass jar as he examines it, tossing different substances into it. "Although, I am almost definitely sure that you guys are right. This may be basilisk's venom after all."

He drops a leaf into the jar and watches it wither in less than a heartbeat.

"So you're saying," Mason asks, "that those pools, all the water in them is contaminated?"

"I'm saying that if we're after the right creature, it should be."

Malia shakes her head and stands up, pushing away the stool she had been sitting on. In three long steps, she's next to Deaton.

"How do we kill it?"

"No," Hayden says, "We can't kill it without knowing its purpose."

"How do we know it even has a purpose?" Liam questions, getting up from his seat next to Malia's stool.

Lydia takes a deep breath and walks towards them, Scott following suit.

"Because that purification plant is abandoned. No one in their right minds would just casually walk in there."

"Especially not an entire family," Scott adds.

"We think that they're being lured in, somehow," Stiles says, joining everyone around Deaton. "Can a basilisk do that?"

"It shouldn't be able to," the man answers before putting a lid on the container and walking towards the counter. "But then again, nothing about this 'King of Serpents', as people like to call it, is for sure. Basilisks are rare creatures, Stiles. A fertilized serpent's egg, hatched by a rooster, and born on the night of a full moon. The chances of that happening are, as you can probably imagine, very thin. So thin, actually, that many of us think it's impossible for a basilisk to even come to life. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Scott asks.

"Unless it was bred on purpose."

"What, like a weapon?" Stiles asks.

"Essentially."

"Alright, so if someone _has_ bred this homicidal snake to kill a bunch of people," Malia begins, "who are they? What do they want?"

"And why these specific people?" Liam adds. "I mean, if they're being lured into that plant, then they must be like, chosen or something, right?" His gaze shifts over to Stiles. "There must be a pattern of some sort."

"Yeah, is there something that the victims have in common?" Corey chips in, his gaze shifting back and forth between Scott and Stiles.

"Not that we know of ye-"

"Wait!" Stiles interrupts Scott. "Marlin Rosoff, the guy who got attacked the first time, along with his brothers, I'm pretty sure my dad said that his family was going to be brought in for questioning today."

"Do you think they're there right now?"

Stiles goes to pick up his schoolbag and walks towards the door, only stopping to glance back at Scott.

"Guess we're going to find out."

* * *

Turns out, someone's there right now.

Stiles smirks in satisfaction as the duo spot the sheriff speaking to a woman through the blinds at the station. Scott reaches for the door to the facility, but Stiles puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

"Can you try to listen in from here?"

"You know I can, Stiles. Although it'll be harder to catch scents from here."

Stiles gulps and looks down, vigorously rubbing the sole of his left shoe against the ground.

"I just– I'd like for my dad to not know to what extent we're involved with this case. I mean, I don't want him to know that we're more involved than he knows. He's been stressing out lately, after Theo..."

Scott nods, and Stiles flashes him a grateful smile. Together, they crawl towards the window to the sheriff's office, sitting right under the windowsill as Scott tries to catch up on the conversation he's hearing.

"They live right next to where the plant is," Scott recites, "and they go on walks every night, the whole family. Some sort of tradition. That night, the dentist, – her husband – heard some weird noise from inside the building, and decided that he'd go take a look. She says that she told him not to go alone, so two of his brothers went in with him. They didn't come back all night."

Stiles nods at Scott, encouraging him to go on.

"She says that she went looking for them later that same night, and she found their bodies by the pools."

"By the pools," Stiles repeats as Scott nods. Processing the information, the human turns to his best friend. "We need to find out more about this guy. Liam was right, there's got to be a pattern. They died the same way, at the same exact spot."

Scott shrugs.

"We could go to his workplace? Do you think they'll let us in?"

Stiles stands up, shaking his head as walks towards his jeep.

"Of course they won't. We're sneaking in."

Scott is about to follow when he hears something, a faint, rapid sound, the continuous, fast thumping of a heart. A little _too_ fast.

"Stiles," the alpha says to his best friend, "I need to get closer to that woman."

Stiles turns around, his brows furrowed.

"Hm?"

"I think she's hiding something from your dad."

Stiles hesitates for a while, glancing towards the window to his dad's office, but when he looks back at Scott's determined face, he merely nods as he comes back towards him, whispering.

"I'll distract dad, tell him off for eating a burger or something. You try to talk to the lady."

Scott nods and stands up, getting ready to sneak into the station as soon as Stiles goes in to distract his father. As Stiles places his hand on the door handle, though, he turns his head to face his friend, a childishsmile upon his face.

"Scotty?"

"Yeah?"

"Be nice to the lady. Don't growl at her or anything. I've heard she's scared of dogs."

Scott just rolls his eyes as his friend walks into the building, trying in vain to conceal his smile.

It's much easier for Stiles to distract his father when he walks in on the man unwrapping a greasy, disgusting, burger as he steps into the office. _At least you could've gotten a burger that isn't bleeding to death, dad,_ is what he opens his argument with.

Scott steps into the building a few moments later, casting a look in the office's direction to make sure Mr. Stilinski doesn't see him. It's a little hard to approach the woman at first, the deputies all looking at him curiously. He watches as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, simultaneously tucking a strand of hair behind her hair. Her hands tremble as she reaches for her purse, which is lying on a chair near Deputy Young's desk, and hastily brings it up to her shoulders. It doesn't escape his notice that she keeps her gaze on the ground, almost as if the half-chipped of tiles of the station are the most fascinating thing in the world.

Inhaling deeply, Scott walks towards the lady and puts a calm hand on her shoulder, his eyes soft as she flinches at his touch. To her furrowed eyebrows and racing heartbeat, he just says "Can we talk? Outside?"

He isn't sure why the woman agrees to go with him as quickly as she does, but decides not to dwell on it. What he does dwell on, though, is the fact that her steps are hurried, her gaze wary, her breaths forced. He dwells on the fact that this poor woman, whoever she is, is traumatized.

He leads her out of the station, a hand lightly rested against her shoulder, barely there. When he stops next to the jeep, on the side opposite to the station, just in case someone decides to glance out the window, he can't bring himself to speak, to ask her the questions he desperately seeks answers to until she coughs, signalling that it's time for him to talk.

"Oh, yeah, um, I know you're hiding something from the cops."

Goddamn, Scott, what a great way to start a conversation.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I –uh, I feel like there's something you're afraid to tell the cops about what happened to your husband at the factory. You can tell me."

She takes a short step backwards.

"Who are you?"

"Scott, ma'am. I'm just trying to help."

"What do you know about my husband?" she asks, her voice louder, more resolute.

"Not much. That's why I'm asking you."

"How did you know that I was hiding something?"

"I –I guessed?"

"Tell me how you know," she presses, "Are you one of them?"

He takes a short step towards her.

"One of whom?"

"A werewolf," she says quietly, her gaze locked on his, her entire body violently shaking, but more in anger now than in fear.

Scott just nods in response.

"I should've known. What do you know? What killed him?"

"We're trying to figure that out, Mrs. Rosoff. I just need to tell me what it is that you're hiding from the cops. And why you're so scared."

"Why I'm scared? Young man, there have been fifteen dead people in the past two days, and three of the victims were my family members. I have every right to be scared."

"Yes, you do, I'm sorry –Wait, how do you know about werewolves?"

She looks around before answering, her breath barely above a whisper after she sighs loudly, clearly meant for no ears other than Scott's.

"My husband and his brothers, they were werewolves, too."

Needless to say, the rest of Scott's questioning was significantly easier.

* * *

"They were werewolves, like, all three of the dead guys?" Stiles asks for the fifth time as they're both seated in the powder blue jeep, on their way to Lydia's house.

"Yeah. Bitten when they were teenagers. Their alpha died a couple of years ago. They've been omegas ever since."

"Okay, so... maybe if we figure out the pack they were a part of, we can find a connection to the other murders. Did she say anything else?"

Scott shakes his head, before turning it towards the window, watching the houses zip by them.

"She said that she never questioned her husband much. She doesn't know a lot."

Stiles nods, and they both stay quiet for the rest of the ride.

It isn't long before the vehicle is pulling up into the driveway of the Martin household. The house was kept so pristine, one would sometimes wonder if they're actually in front of the thing, rather than staring at some giant photograph. Surely, to some passerby, Roscoe would look like a pine tree in a field of poppies, casually parked in front of the house like that.

The two boys hop out of the jeep, Stiles flinging his schoolbag over his shoulder before accidentally slamming the car door shut. He flinches at the noise before making his way to the door, where Scott has already rung the bell.

The white door swings open shortly after, revealing Ms Martin, a crease between her eyebrows, her head tilted to the side slightly with her glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

"Yes?" she asks.

Scott is the one who answers.

"Um, Ms. Martin, we're uh, here to see Lydia, actually."

The woman straightens up before plastering a smile on her face.

"Oh, boys, Lydia's actually out right now. She went shopping with Malia."

"Oh. Okay, thank you."

The lady nods before closing the door, and Scott turns to Stiles, confused.

"Lydia didn't say anything about having plans."

"Maybe she's getting something for her date with Jackson," Stiles shrugs.

Scott's eyes widen for a moment, but he regains his composure quickly as he notices his best friend's expression.

Stiles says Jackson's name almost nonchalantly, but no matter how hard he tries, he just can't control the way his nostrils flare a little when Lydia talks about the way she used to feel about him, the way his upper lip twitches slightly at the werewolf's mention, the way his eyes roll whenever Scott tries to explain to him that people can change, and the way his heartbeat spikes when someone even says the name.

 _Deny it forever, Stiles. You still like her._


End file.
